I have this thing that drives me crazy when things drive me crazy (as crazy as that sounds).
Years ago, I dated a man who still holds the “Worst Ever Ex” title in my book. Among the many things that irked him about me was my insistence on seeing situations the way they should have been instead of the way they actually were. He would have given anything to grind my rose-colored glasses under his heel. I used to laugh at how much I got on his nerves.
Trouble is, I get on my own nerves, too.
This thing of mine, it happens when I run up against something that just isn’t right, that slaps the smile off my face and shows me that reality doesn’t look like my fantasy of how things ought to be. I get flustered and uncomfortable. I get angry. I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
It’s silly. I live in the world. I know how the world works. Silly. But true all the same. Fox teases me about it. Sometimes I tease myself. But it continues. It remains.
Today, four different times. Four. That’s a record, even for me. I came home wound tight, exhausted, prickly. It’s no one’s fault … except mine, of course. Really no one’s fault. Everyone’s just doing what they’re doing, what they can be expected to be doing, maybe even what they should be doing. They’re still poking at the back of my throat.
I have this thing. And today it piled one moment on top of another and left me here. Tomorrow will be different and probably better. But tonight has run long and it’s time for bed.
Find many far less frustrated and frustrating slices at Two Writing Teachers.